


On the Bonny, Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond

by scottishbadger



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Loch Lomond, M/M, Scotland, johnlock holiday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottishbadger/pseuds/scottishbadger
Summary: When both Sherlock and John are bogged down with work, John suggests that they take a break and go to his Aunt Hettie's cottage for the weekend. It just so happens that the cottage is on the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond in Scotland.





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this came from 1) my desperate need for Johnlock in Scotland and 2) my wonderful 85-year-old grandfather who is not the subtlest of people. One day I was talking to him about one of my friends and he said "is she wan o' them gays n aw" which I just love. So the thought occurred to me that what if we were to meet one of John's Scottish relatives and she would ask Sherlock if he was "wan o' them gays". What would Sherlock's response be?
> 
> This fic is going to include a few Scottish references so I'll try to post the meanings to some of them at the end for those who might not get them. If there is anything else you don't understand, leave me a comment. Ta pals :)

Sherlock was on the fifth case he’d had in the past two weeks. The ninth one he’d had this month. The fourteenth he’d had this year. And it was only the end of February.

The last one was pretty hard. Not only just physically as he had to run all over London in one night, but emotionally too. It involved two young kids, and it left Sherlock thinking about what could have happened if he’d just gotten there a few minutes earlier. He never admitted that it affected him of course. He just murmured something about being tired and shut himself up in his room after it, not emerging until the next night when he got yet another call from Lestrade. He didn’t even say goodbye to John as he slung on his coat with a sigh and headed out again.

John was back at Baker Street with Rosie in tow. Turns out that neither men are good with their emotions as he didn’t exactly say anything when he turned up on Sherlock’s door one day with his bags packed and a toddler on his hip. But he didn’t need to say anything. Sherlock just knew. John, however, couldn’t help out as much with cases as he used to. Raising a young child on your own does take its toll and he too was extremely busy at the surgery. Yet, he saw an opportunity when he noticed that it was the February weekend coming up and the surgery was going to be closed Friday and Monday for the long weekend.

It was Thursday night when Sherlock finally came back after that fifth/ninth/fourteenth case and he looked absolutely exhausted. He shrugged off his coat and just let it fall upon the floor. He didn’t even think he had the strength to make it to his bedroom so he just flopped onto the sofa, rubbing his eyes and groaning.

“Good case?” asked John tentatively as he brought in two cups of tea and placed one on the coffee table for Sherlock.

“No, not particularly,” Sherlock murmured. “Only about a five really. Lestrade promised it would be a six, but it turns out it was only a five.” He lifted his head slightly and noticed the cup on the table. He reached forward and took a sip, but afterwards sighed again and hung his head. “John, I think there’s something wrong with me,” he said morosely, looking down at his tea. “It was only a five today and there were elements of it that were so simple but I just…I just couldn’t see them. Things that I would normally deduce right away took me twice as long and I couldn’t see what was hitting me in the face. It was like my brain wasn’t working.” He looked up at John with grave concern written on his face. “Can I ask you, as a doctor, what do you think’s wrong?”

It took everything in John not to chuckle at how dramatic Sherlock was being. He sat forward in his armchair and gave the detective a sympathetic smile. “Well, it’s not hard to figure out is it. You’ve been out on cases non-stop since the start of the year. This will be your..what? Eighth case this mon-“

“Ninth,” Sherlock interrupted.

“Right, well, what I’m getting at is…you’re exhausted Sherlock.” At this, Sherlock scoffed loudly and flumped back onto the sofa. “I’m being serious,” John continued. “You’ve run yourself ragged and it’s evidently affecting you. And can I tell you something, you won’t get any better unless you take a break.”

“Take a break…” Sherlock scoffed again. “How can I take a break? I can’t just stop, John. This is London and there are hundreds of things happening out there right this very…” He was interrupted by a buzzing coming from his coat lying on the floor. “See! There’s Lestrade again. It doesn’t stop, John.” Sherlock went to get up, but John was already there before him. He raced over to Sherlock’s coat and answered the phone before he had a chance to stand.

“Hi Greg, it’s John. Ugh, no he’s not. I’m afraid he’s on holiday…yeah, listen I think he really needs one, doctor’s orders and all that. Can you find someone else to do it? Ok, great. See you later.”

Sherlock looked slightly perplexed as he stared at John once he’d hung up. “Why did you say I’m on holiday?”

“Cause you are.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t do holidays.”

“Well you are this time. Like I said, doctor’s orders.”

“Holidays usually infer going away somewhere. I’m still in London.”

“For now, yes. But by tomorrow you won’t be.”

“Oh for God’s sake, John stop being so cryptic and tell me what’s going on. I’ve already told you my head’s not working.”

With a knowing smile, John sat back down in his armchair. “The surgery’s closing for the long weekend and I’ve managed to get someone to look after Rosie. So I thought we could go away for a few days, just get out of London. Take a good, well-earned break.”

“Right. And where are you thinking for this break?” Sherlock asked, trying not to give away that it did sound appealing to get away for a bit.

“Well, my Aunt Hettie has a nice little cottage that she lets out.”

“And where exactly is this cottage?”

John smiled into his tea before saying “Scotland. Loch Lomond.”

“Scotland?” Sherlock repeated. He lifted his head back and thought about it for a moment before his aching body decided it for him. “Yes, alright.”

“Yes, you’re agreeing to it?”

“Naturally. We leave tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, I’m renting a car,” John grinned, standing up now to take his empty cup back to the kitchen. “You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road,” he said in his worst Scottish accent.

“What?” Sherlock said, frowning and looking extremely perplexed.

“It’s the…you know…the song…you take the…oh, never mind! Go pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCOTTISH REFERENCES
> 
> I'm not sure how it is in other countries but in Scotland we tend to have a few long weekends throughout the year. These are usually in February, May and September where there are bank holidays on the Friday and the Monday surrounding the weekend.  
> Loch Lomond is a large lake just north of Glasgow in Scotland and is a popular holiday location.  
> The title of the fic comes from a traditional Scottish song called "The Bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond." The lyrics that John says at the end is from the chorus. (And it's about two lovers who spend their time at Loch Lomond *nudge nudge wink wink*


	2. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock hop into their car and head for north of the border.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! As I'm doing the opposite journey of these two by heading from Glasgow to London tomorrow, I thought I'd give you another chapter for the weekend.  
> Hope you enjoy it and some more Scottish references are at the bottom.

“Are you not going to take a jumper?  
“Are you my mother?”  
“Sherlock, it’s Scotland in February. You really should take a jumper.”  
“I have a coat.”  
“Fine, then I’m packing an extra one. I’m not having you complaining it’s cold as soon as we get there.”  
Sherlock huffed and zipped up his suitcase before carrying it out into the hall. “Did you get the car then?”  
“Yeah, it’s all packed and ready to go,” John said as he zipped up his jacket.  
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t just take the train,” Sherlock murmured.  
“Oh come on. Road trips are fun,” said John nudging his elbow as they headed out of the door. “We can actually talk to one another with no distractions.”  
“But I have to talk to you all weekend. Isn’t that eno-“ Sherlock stopped mid-sentence as he saw the look John was giving him. It was safe to say that he had to lift his suitcase into the boot by himself.

* * *

  
It took them about an hour to actual get out of London but once they did it was just motorway as far as the eye could see.  
“Since when have you had family in Scotland,” Sherlock finally asked, partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity.  
“Since always. Where did you think the name John Hamish Watson came from?” John replied.  
“I was too busy laughing at it to consider it, to be honest,” Sherlock said with a small smirk. “Mum’s side?”  
“Dad’s,” John answered. “He came from Greenock. Worked on the shipbuilding for a while but when that all fell through he got offered a job in London. My mum used to work in the café around the corner from his work and she just heard the accent and fell head over heels. Can’t really blame her, can you?”  
“No…no, can’t say I can,” Sherlock said, a little shocked at how he didn’t know all this before. “But he made you visit a lot I gather?”  
“Oh yeah,” John nodded. “At least every summer we were up north. Dad came from a very big family. We were considered the posh English ones even though we were common as muck,” he chuckled slightly at the memory, and Sherlock smiled too as he saw a new nostalgic side of John. “We spent a few New Years up there too,” John continued. “Well, they call it Hogmanay. Oh my God, it was riotous. Nearly thirty people crammed into a tiny house, whisky flowing all night, and everyone had to sing a song whether you liked it or not. It was great.”  
John turned his head and caught Sherlock smiling at him fondly. “What about you?” he asked. “Ever been to Scotland before?”  
“Scotland, no,” Sherlock replied, turning his gaze from John to make it less obvious. “The Jurassic Coast in Dorset was our main holiday destination. Used to go to Lyme Regis.”  
“Oh really,” John said raising his eyebrows. “Would have thought that would have been too…normal for the Holmes family, a seaside holiday.”  
“As normal as it could be,” Sherlock said with a smile creeping back on his lips. “When we were really young, Mycroft and I used to go fossil searching and naturally we never found anything.” He turned to look out of the window as the memories were coming back to him. “I loved the sea though. Nothing better than on a hot day running into the absolutely freezing sea. Now that was great.”  
John was now glancing over at Sherlock with a fond smile.

* * *

  
John and never really considered the implications of taking Sherlock into another country until the pulled in for a coffee break at a service station just after they crossed the border. His usually Sherlockian walk somehow seemed to be magnified by about ten times as he strutted into the small café. John let him order coffees as he flicked through a paper, but he was distracted a minute later as he saw Sherlock pay with his card.  
“That’s you,” said the girl behind the counter with a friendly smile.  
“Excuse me?” Sherlock said with a frown.  
“That’s you,” she repeated looking down at the card machine.  
“That’s me? What do you mean that’s me?” Sherlock said, his voice seeming so much more posh than normal. “Of course it’s me. It’s my card. Are you assuming I stole someone else’s card?”  
“No, no, I mean that’s you. That’s the card…the payments gone through…” said the girl, slightly flustered. “You can take your card out now.”  
“Then why didn’t you just say that in the first place. Idiot.” Sherlock then took the coffees and headed over to John, looking at him as if nothing had happened. “What?”  
“Um, Sherlock,” John said putting down the paper. “I don’t know how to say this, but you’re out of London now, you’re out of England in fact. And…well…it’s just…up here you need to just be a bit less…”  
“What?” Sherlock said impatiently.  
“Well…English,” John said frankly, before offering him an awkward smile and returning back to the car before Sherlock could interrogate him on how to be less English.

* * *

 

It was another hour or two before they finally reached Loch Lomond. John was tiring but evidently not as much as Sherlock who had dozed off whilst resting his head against the window. Every now and then John would glance over at the sleeping detective and smile to himself. He knew that this was what he needed. As they got near to the cottage, John gently woke up Sherlock and pointed to his right.  
“What? What is it?” Sherlock mumbled groggily. When his eyes finally focused properly, he was speechless. The sun and managed to peer through the clouds and all that could be seen for miles and miles was the deepest blue water surrounded by the most breath-taking hills of the most perfect green. They pulled up to the cottage which had a completely unrestricted view of the loch.  
“Not a bad view, eh?” John said with a smirk.  
“It’s beautiful,” Sherlock said before he could even think about it.  
John got out of the car and took some of the bags out of the boot and to the front door. The cottage was small but made of gorgeous white stone and was surrounded by various different plants and flowers. John got the key from a flower pot by the door and opened it up. There was an envelope on the door mat as they walked in which John picked up. Sherlock, still awe struck, walked into the sitting room. It wasn’t the biggest of places but it had a log fire, high back tartan armchairs, shelves lined with books, and a huge window at the front that looked right out onto the loch. Sherlock put down his bags and took a seat in one of the armchairs. “Alright, maybe I did need a rest,” he said leaning his head back. “I could very happily stay right here all weekend.”  
John came in holding a card with a highland cow on the front. “Well maybe not all weekend,” he said slightly nervously. “Aunt Hettie’s invited us for dinner tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCOTTISH REFERENCES
> 
> Hogmanay is a real thing and it is what we call New Year's Eve. A typical Hogmanay does usually involve going to somebody's house, getting drunk with whisky and singing songs, although some also involve a traditional Scottish dance called a ceilidh (but more of that latter).  
> The story of the girl in the cafe did actually happen. In Scotland we tend to say "that's you" to mean "that's you finished" or "that's yours". So for instance if a barista was to give you a coffee, they might say "that's you there" to mean "that's your coffee" or if you're paying by card and the payments gone through they might say "that's you" as in "that's you done" so you can take your card out of the machine. I didn't realise this was a thing (orthat is was Scottish) until my dad had friends come up from England and be really confused when after they paid for something, the cashier went "that's you." It's something that we don't even think twice about.  
> Let me know if there's anything else you might need explained.  
> I also apologise in advanced for the next chapter as we meet Aunt Hettie...things are about to get way more Scottish.


	3. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Aunt Hettie! I apologise sincerely to any non-Scottish readers because she has a rather thick accent. But there is something that she asks that everyone understands.

**Saturday**

“Do we have to go?”

“Sherlock, she’s letting us have the house for free during a holiday weekend. It’s the least we can do.”

“But is Glasgow not really far away?”

“It’ll take twenty minutes. Now get in the car.”

Sherlock reluctantly got into the car, crossing his arms and sporting his best pout. After ten minutes, John finally broke the silence.

“I think you’d like Aunt Hettie actually. She tells it as it is. Takes nae prisoners.” The terrible Scottish accent was back and it pulled the corners of Sherlock’s mouth into a small smile. “Hard shell on the outside but the kindest person on the inside. I bit like someone else I know,” John said with a glance to his passenger side.

Sherlock didn’t know what to say in response. They were coming out of country roads now and streetlamps were lighting the way ahead. “Is Glasgow not supposed to be very dangerous? High crime rate?” Sherlock couldn’t hide the slight tone of excitement in his voice.

“Parts of it are,” John replied. “But I suppose every city has its good bits and bad bits. I personally find the Glaswegians to be the friendliest people I’ve ever met. As my Uncle Robert used to say, they’ll stab you but they’ll phone you an ambulance afterwards,” he chuckled.

It wasn’t long after that they had passed a big sign saying “Welcome to Glasgow” and Sherlock was peering out of the window to catch a glimpse of the city in the dark. “Keep an eye out for signs to Knightswood,” John instructed. “This is the West End, by the way. Quite a nice area.” John wasn’t wrong. The place was bustling with trendy bars and restaurants and stylish young people flitting in and out of them. There were churches that were done up with lights and looked like nightclubs and old bank buildings that were swanky cocktails bars. Sherlock was actually impressed.

They managed to find Knightswood and Aunt Hettie’s address; a semi-detached house in a nice little cul-de-sac. They weren’t even out of the car before they could hear the door opening and a warm, motherly voice calling them in.

“Well hullo there!” Aunt Hettie was standing in the doorway, beaming from head to foot. She was exactly what Sherlock imagined. She was small and rather plump but bursting with life as she stretched out her arms to greet her nephew. Sherlock quickly deduced that that was her best dress she was wearing underneath her apron and her tight curls had just been done today. Her glasses hung on a chain right on top of her rather large bosom and her face was wrinkled with years of laughing and smiling.

“There he is! Ma wee Johnny!” she squealed as John came up and gave her a massive hug. She took his face in his hands and smiled up at him. “Took you long enough!”

“I know, I know,” John blushed, looking slightly guilty. “A lot has happened over the past few years.”

“Aye, I can see that,” Aunt Hettie said as he gaze turned to Sherlock.

“Oh, Aunt Hettie, this is my friend Sherlock,” John said quickly before she could jump to the same conclusions as everyone else did.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sherlock said with a smile extending his hand. Aunt Hettie just looked at it and chuckled.

“Aw son, I’m a hugger. C’mere,” and before Sherlock knew it he was being pulled into a tight embrace. “Any friend of John’s is a friend of mine.” Sherlock froze at first as she hugged him but slowly relaxed as he caught John’s eye and smiled.

“Right, come in, come in!” Aunt Hettie beckoned. “Dinner’s nearly ready. Goat a steak pie fae that lovely wee butchers down the road. He is lovely, so he is,” she called as she shuffled her way into the kitchen. “Do you drink, Sherlock? A’ve got wine, gin, port, whiskey…but I think that’s for afters.”

“Wine will do us both, Aunt Hettie, thanks,” John called as they made their way into the house.

“Right you are!” Aunt Hettie called back.

John turned to Sherlock and smiled as they entered into the living room, making sure that he was alright. “Force to be reckoned with, right?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Sherlock’s eye was suddenly caught by some photo frames on a cabinet. “Hmm, let’s play ‘Find John’,” he said with a smirk as he walked over to it. He bent down and surveyed them all for a minute before picking up a small frame at the back. “Found it. Not hard really.”

John chuckled lightly and stood behind Sherlock to get a better look at the photo. It was of both him and Harry in a canoe. John had a mop of bright blond hair and was smiling widely at the camera, but with a few teeth missing. “Oh yeah,” he said with a fond smile. “That was up in Aviemore, on Loch Morlich. I think I was about six or seven then. Probably the only time that Harry and I ever got on.”

Sherlock studied the photograph closely and his eyes softened as he looked at it. “You look cute,” he said without really thinking about it. He glanced up at John only to find that John was looking back, yet neither of them broke their gaze. Not until, that was, Aunt Hettie came bustling in from the kitchen with a steaming hot steak pie.

“Right boys, grubs up!”

 

* * *

 

“Oh Aunt Hettie, that was delicious. Your cooking always was the best,” John said, sitting back in his chair, feeling thoroughly satisfied.

“Aye well only my John deserves the best,” Aunt Hettie replied. “And you too, Sherlock dear.”

Sherlock offered her an endearing smile. He had had a couple of glasses of wine was feeling a bit more relaxed and slightly merry.

“So, Sherlock, you’re a detective right?” Aunt Hettie said turning to him.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Like Taggart?”

Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle and smile fondly at her. “Yes, I suppose like Taggart.”

“There’s been a murder!” John chimed in, again in the awful accent.

“Oh John, for God’s sake, stop doing that accent!” Sherlock said laughing as he looked at him. “You’re just embarrassing everyone. I’m sorry but it’s terrible.”

“No…no…naw it’s not!” John said again, purposely making the accent sound ridiculous.

“Idiot,” Sherlock huffed as he took a sip of wine. All this time Aunt Hettie had a big grin on her face as she watched the two men intently.

“Here, John, do ye mind ma wee pal Agnes fae church?” she said, sitting forward. She seemed to get more Scottish the more she drank.

“No, I can’t say that I do.”

“Aye, ye do. Mind that time ye came up for Hogmanay and we were all round at mine…n that was the time I still stayed in Partick and I invited everyone over fae the church.”

“Yeah I remember that.”

“N’ I introduced ye tae ma wee pal Agnes wi the big glasses that thought she wis something at the time cause she’d just bought a hoose in Bearsden.” John just gave her a blank look. “Aye, well mind her boy Gavin?”

“Um, I’m not sure that I…”

“Naw ye do. Lanky lad wi the dyed hair. Mind a said, didn’t a say there was something up wi him. Well naw something up wi him, but just something a wee bit different aboot him.”

“Yeah I suppose-”

“Well I was right! Turns oot he’s wan o’ them gays. Not that there’s anything bad aboot being wan o’ them gays but I was right wasn’t I. I’m telling you, John, I’ve goat a six sense or something. I can spot them a mile aff.”

“Alright, sure Aunt Hettie” John said nodding, picking up the wine bottle and topping up her glass.

“Like you, Sherlock,” Aunt Hettie pointed her glass at him.

“What about me?”

“You’re wan o’ them gays n’ aw, in’t ye?”

“Yes, I am,” Sherlock said without hesitation, smiling into his wine glass.

“See, a telt ye. Sixth sense.”

John froze suddenly and whipped his head around to Sherlock. Did he hear that right? Did he process those words correctly? Did Sherlock just admit that he was gay?

“You alright, John?” Aunt Hettie asked. “Yer looking awfy peely-wally.”

“Yeah…I just…did you just..” John stammered, staring at Sherlock, but Sherlock just looked back with a completely neutral expression as though nothing had happened.

“Are you sure yer alright, son?” Aunt Hettie said, taking his hand. “You don’t look too good. Maybe you need some sugar. A’ve goat a puddin’ in the fridge.”

“No, listen..I…we actually should probably get going,” John said standing up. “It’s getting quite late and I..uh…on the radio it said something about the roads being icy so…yeah…” John was really out of his depth here but everything just felt disjointed. Why was this such a blow to him? Had he not always suspected it? Had he never thought that Sherlock was gay?

He thanked Aunt Hettie for the dinner and kissed her goodnight as they headed out into the cold night air. John walked down the garden path, trying to prepare himself for a conversation they’ll probably be having in the car.

“Oh, a forgot to say,” Aunt Hettie called after them. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. There’s a ceilidh at the Inverberg Inn, the pub just as you come into the road where the cottage is. I’m going to pop in for a bit so I’ll see you up there.”

“Right, see you then,” John called back, not really processing that either. “Thanks again Aunt Hettie.”

The conversation in the car never came. The two of them rode back in complete and utter silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCOTTISH REFERENCES 
> 
> There are so many in this chapter that I don't think I could name them all. I think the best way to do this is that if you are wondering what something means, just ask in the comments and I shall answer.   
> Also, I should mention that I took some artistic liberty with the geography of Glasgow as you wouldn't past the West End if you were driving from Loch Lomond to Knightswood. But I practically live in the West End and it's beautiful and wonderful and I had to include it.


End file.
